Bear Season
This past bear season, was likely my last hunting season for a good long while. As many of you know, Erin and I are engaged and plan on taking a trip after our wedding. This means that I will be busy, then gone, during the fall deer season and may not be back in time for the following spring bear season, there’s even a chance that I will still be gone, or just be busy readjusting, when the next fall season shows up. That means it could be up to two years before I get another chance to go hunting. But I guess that’s the way life goes when you have wanderlust.
I came into this bear season organized and ambitious. Weeks before the season opened I began cleaning out the expired food in my cupboard, fridge, and freezer, I also got several friends to do the same. I then went out to my moms farm and set up my bait. It was a basic blue metal barrel wired to a tree with some holes cut in it just big enough for a bear paw to fit in. I filled it up with old popcorn, pasta, and some ground beef that had overstayed its welcome in the freezer. I was sure to take all the wrappers off of all the food. I then built a basic ground blind about 20 yards away by nailing some old grainery wood to some trees.
20 Yards From the Blind to the Bait
My goal was simple, I wanted to shoot a bear with my recurve bow. I was well practiced out to 25 yards and felt more than confident in my abilities at 20. That said, whenever I went out to the bait I would bring a rifle with me and lean it up beside me, in case things did exactly work out for me. Needless to say my mother and my fiancee had some concerns… I guess some people have no sense of adventure these days.
The first few weeks were very uneventful, for the most part winter was still strong so bears were still in hibernation. As the weather warmed up I began to take it more seriously. Almost every weekend I would drive out to my mothers house to sit at the bear bait, I would also practice with my bow everyday I was there. I wanted to be sure I could make full use of any opportunity luck and mother nature gave me. I also made a point of being more prepared to process and save the meat from any bear I was able to shoot. To my everlasting shame; I was ill prepared the first time I shot a bear and was only able to save and eat a very small portion of it. I do take comfort in knowing it taught me a valuable lesson in being prepared, but that wastefulness still bothers me, and likely always will.
I found that changing up the target improved my accuracy
Finally the winter broke and the snow melted. There were reports of bear sightings everywhere and there was still just over a month left in the season. That gave me six weekends to get my bear, the race was on. The first of the weekends I mostly saw mosquitoes, lots and lots of them, and a mule deer that ran right passed me and the bait station as though it was being chased.
The following week, a friend of mine from work asked if I wanted all the old expired food out of his freezer, I assumed he knew I wanted bear bait… I gladly accepted the offer and said I would be by in a few days, assuming he would leave a small bag of food in the freezer for a day or two. I was mistaken, he had left a big garbage bag on the floor of his attached garage. His, then 28 weeks pregnant, wife came home to a house that smelt like old thawing meat, he got an angry text and I went straight to his house after work and picked it up. We were all aware of how close he and I had come to facing the wrath of an angry pregnant woman, far more dangerous than any bear if you ask me. The meat then sat in my detached garage for two weeks making a rather impressive stench, I imagine every dog in the neighborhood was on hi-alert that week. The following weekend I wasn’t able to go out, being an adult is terrible, far too much responsibility.
Finally a weekend arrived and I was out at the farm. I tossed the, now slightly rotten, food from my friend into the bait barrel. Its strange how often it comes in handy that I have a strong stomach for smells. The barrel now filled and emitting scent, I had a seat in the blind and waited, the first day nothing came. The second day, a coyote ran up to the bait and then changed his mind at the last second, I think he maybe spotted me shifting in my seat as he was running up. This bait was beginning to look hopeless, did I set it up wrong? was I in the wrong area?
The following weekend Erin came out with me to visit my mom and sister and do some bike riding as both my mom and sister had recently bought new bikes. Erin, not being a hunter, made it very clear that she didn’t want to sit in a mosquito infested swamp and wait for me to shoot a bear (my words not her’s)….. women right? Given how slow the season had been going so far, I felt like a weekend doing something else might be just what I needed. We arrived at the farm Saturday morning and we went to top up the bait quick, I had a little bread bag filled with some old bread, leftovers from a restaurant we went to, and some other odds and ends. We arrived at the bait to find that something had tore the bottom off of the barrel and pretty well licked it clean, there was nothing left in or around it. I folded the bottom of the barrel closed and threw my pint of food in. I knew this was trouble, if a bait goes empty bears will stop coming to it.
Torn open and emptied
I put the half a bread bag worth of food into the barrel knowing it wouldn’t last til the following weekend.
A little bit is better than nothing I guess
I was upset to find that the trail camera hadn’t taken a single photo throughout the entire incident. So I have no proof of what came there or when, for all I know it could have been Sasquatch. The rest of the weekend was spend mountain biking along the old cow trails through the woods. It was exciting and probably even more dangerous than bear hunting, Erin and I had a blast.
The second last weekend came, and I headed out of the city as fast as I could, on Friday, and stopped at a farm store on the way out. I picked up two bags of oats mixed with molasses, I figured that would be nearly irresistible to a bear… I was tempted to eat some myself on the drive. I filled the bait, it had been emptied again, but there was so little food in it that it could have been birds or coyotes scavenging. I sat for two days and didn’t see anything. The next weekend I went out again, it was the final weekend and I spend most of both Saturday and Sunday sitting in that blind waiting. Again, nothing showed up, and all too soon bear season was over and I had little to show for it.
No bear this season, to me, doesn’t mean a failed season. I learned a few things and came up with a few good ideas to try again next time. In hind sight, when I saw that the bait was empty I should have ran to the farm store that day and gotten something to put in. I also should have set the trail camera up better: fresh batteries and lower to the ground for better detection. I learned that rancid meat makes way better bait than fresh meat, of course that one was kind of obvious.. Like any addicted hunter, I’ll keep trying until I succeed… then I’ll try and do it again.
Posted in Huntingwith no comments yet.
Fishing in The Rain
Erin and I recently spent the weekend at her grandfathers house visiting and telling stories. Somewhere in the back and forth, he told me an old fishing story that spurred my memory. Here’s an old tale from when I was fresh out of high-school.
One spring, near the beginning of my university career, I decided to go on a fishing trip with a friend from work named Trevor. It would actually be one of the first dedicated fishing trips of my adult life. The plan was to take my dad’s suburban, my brothers inflatable boat, a 9.5 hp motor, and a bunch of miscellaneous camping gear, most of which was borrowed. We loaded a borrowed cooler with food that was mostly prepped by Trevor’s mom.
Friday evening, we went north to my dad’s house outside of Athabasca, grabbed the boat, and decided on a lake. We debated a lake called Calling Lake, which is well known for its walleye, but in the end we decided on Rock Island Lake. It was closer and smaller, if I recall. On Saturday morning, we pulled up to the lake, made camp, assembled the boat, and quickly went out fishing. We were camped on the west side of the lake and decided to fish the south shore.
As soon as we got a line in the water, it started to rain. My goodness, did it rain. We were standing and fishing in a 10 foot rubber pontoon boat in the pouring rain with about 6 inches of water sloshing in the bottom. We tried casting and trolling without so much as a bite. At one point, one of us looked at the other and expressed “Fuck it! Fishin’!” We both shrugged our shoulders and threw another cast. We kept fishing, and CRACK! A flash of lightning, again we looked and each other and chuckled out our new catch phrase. Finally, the rain died down a bit and our fishing desperation came to a halt when the hunger took hold.
We pulled in to the camp site where it didn’t seem to be raining as hard anymore and changed into some dry clothes. We made some lunch and while cooking I looked out at the lake and noticed that the south side, where we had been fishing, was black skies and pouring rain, while the north side was clear sky and sunshine.
We decided to try the north side, with the train of thought that it couldn’t possibly be worse than the south, at the very least it would be less soggy. We headed along the shore line and found a nice patch of weeds and started casting. Within our first 10 casts we had caught our legal limit of pike and walleye. It was an absolute fishing frenzy. By the end of the afternoon we had both filled our quota for fish, and caught a few more that were even bigger than the ones we had previously decided to keep. Unfortunately we didn’t have a live well so we were stuck with the first fish we decided to keep. Oh well, there are worse things in life than too many fish.
We headed into camp and Trevor expertly filleted the fish. Filleting fish is one of those skills that I truly wish I had, but just don’t seem to be able to remember, or pull off effectively. I guess I’ll keep practicing. We fried up the fish in a nice crispy batter, the best way to cook a fish if you ask me. We also fried up some cubed potatoes and cooked a can of beans. Aside from a some fish, the can of beans was my only contribution to the meal. It may have been the fresh fish, the fresh air, or the lingering effects of the morning’s hypothermia, but that meal is, to this day, one of the best I’ve ever eaten.
Good Thing It Wasn’t a Fashion Show
We had a bit of a fire and then turned in for the night. That evening it got windy, rainy and cold. Very cold it seemed, and neither one of us had a sleeping bag worth a plug nickel. When we heard a break in the rain, we made a run for the suburban. We ran the engine and made good use of the heater for an hour or two while playing cards, then shut off the engine and listened to the radio for a bit. We slept the rest of the night in the suburban and went out fishing in the morning. We caught fish, but not like the previous afternoon, and to my memory, we didn’t bother keeping any.
Finally we decided we best be getting home. We packed up our camp and tore apart the boat. We loaded everything into the SUV. I jumped in and turned the key, only to hear that ever so disappointing click. That click that tells you that your battery is dead. That click that tells you “you aren’t going anywhere”. I grabbed my nearly dead cell phone and checked my signal – none. I looked around the campground and noticed that almost everyone else was gone. It was looking like we were walking to the highway to calling for help. We were two steps out of the campsite when an older gent with a fifth-wheel camper stopped and asked if we were in trouble. The looks on our faces may have tipped him off. I explained the situation and politely asked if he could give us a boost with is truck. He chuckled and said “no” then got out of his truck, dug through his tool box and grabbed one of those booster boxes… I was glad he was willing to help us, I just wish he didn’t have a sense of humour about it. We hooked it to the battery, fired up the truck, and headed back to civilization to begin unloading our gear.
Trevor and I don’t work together anymore and we don’t see each other much, but every time we do, one of us, without fail, chuckles and says “Fuck it! Fishin’!” I guess some jokes just stand the test of time.
Posted in Fishingwith no comments yet.
The Hawk Kept Flying
One thing that outdoorsmen will always do, is be late getting home. No matter how long they claim they will be gone, or how long they intend to be gone, they will always be later than stated. Its not our fault really, time just changes when you’re outside, especially if you’re like me and get distracted easily.
I remember a few years ago I watched a film called “The Missing“. Its a great film and it has a quote in it that I’ve always felt struck a chord with me:
- Samuel: [long pause] There’s a Apache story about a man that woke up one morning and saw a hawk on the wind. Walked outside and never returned. After he died, he met his wife in the spirit world. She asked him why he never came home, he said “Well, the hawk kept flying.”
[pause]
- Samuel: There’s always the next something, Maggie. And that will take a man away.
(from WikiQuote)
Now back to where I was going with this.. Oh right, getting distracted, I guess that happens even in my writing. Anyway, I set up my bear bait just before the season opened, when it was still nice and cold outside. Not surprisingly, nothing showed up on the trail cameras over the next few weeks.
A while later, the first weekend of the season actually, I decided to go have a sit in my little handmade blind. I figured nothing would show up, there were still no pictures on the trail cameras and nothing missing from the bait barrel. I figured it would be nice to just sit and relax for an hour or so and maybe see if I could spot anything that needed adjusting, maybe some branches trimmed to give me a shooting lane, things like that. A few minutes in, I realized that my blind was in short supply of something to sit on and crouching just wasn’t pleasant. Not worrying about blowing my cover, I stood up and started to walk around the area looking for a good log I could commandeer and use as a seat. Most of the ones I found were too rotten to support my body mass. Suddenly, in front of me on the trail, there was a great big, terrifying…. pile of moose poo. Then it hit me! A thought, not the moose poo, it was stationary. Where there’s moose poo, there’s moose, where there’s moose, there’s antler sheds. So I abandoned my log hunt for a shed hunt. I didn’t find much, I never seem to do well while searching for sheds it seems.
After some walking around I came to a clearing at the edge of a pond and glanced up across it and saw two beavers sun bathing on top of their lodge. I can’t help but feel the expression “busy as a beaver” might be misleading, or are these beavers the exception? Either way, I decided to try and get some pictures of these lazy beavers. I walked up to the waters edge and snapped a few pictures with my phone, but they just looked so far away. So, I came up with a plan, I walked back to the quad and drove it around to the far side of the pond where I could get a closer look at the beavers. I walked slowly and silently toward them, I froze like a statue every time one of them turned to look at me. Finally I was about five yards from the water and about ten yards from the lodge and they spotted me. They dove into the icy water, I crouched there silently for what felt like minutes, finally they resurfaced through the thin layer of ice. The cracking ice made that amazing sound, a mix of lazer beams and rubbing polystyrene together. They both looked right at me, I refused to move a muscle. Slowly they both swam back to their home, climbed on top of it, and started licking and shaking the water from their fur.
I slipped ever closer, this time without notice. The toes of my hunting boots were in the water, this was as close as I could get without swimming and I didn’t feel like wrecking my hair. I had my rifle with me, like I always do in the bush, I carefully maneuvered it onto a patch of grass where it would stay dry. I then dug my phone out of my pocket and snapped some more pictures. Eventually I was noticed and the beavers dove back into the water, this time seemed to have a little more panic. I decided that was enough stress for two animals trying to enjoy the sun, I grabbed my rifle and snuck back to the quad, all the while trying not to arouse anymore suspicion.
As I headed home I looked at my watch, I had been gone for almost three hours. That’s triple what I had intended, but well… the hawk kept flying… and I didn’t even get a decent picture… Still a better use of time than watching TV, if you ask me.
I have got to start carrying a real camera
Posted in Huntingwith no comments yet.
Bait Malfunction
I was recently at my Aunt and Uncle’s house for Easter. Among the many stories told was one that I had somewhat forgotten about. So I figured I may as well share it so you can laugh too.
My mother is an avid gardener, and to my knowledge has been for longer than I’ve been alive. One thing every gardener seems to be in agreement on is that earth worms are good to have in a garden. Earthworms also seem to prefer gardens to live in. My guess is that its because the soil is richer, softer and watered regularly. The down side to being an earthworm in a garden, is that fishermen (of all ages) know exactly where to find you. And they wont get in trouble for digging there, within reason.
My dad is an avid fisherman, and to my knowledge, has been for longer than I’ve been alive. One thing that most fishermen seem to be in agreement on, is that earth worms make good bait. They seem to work well and they are readily available. You can buy them. Or if you have a limited allowance and are saving up for more fishing lures, you can dig them up in your mothers garden. That is exactly what I used to do.
I remember one time in particular…
It was the day before we were to go out fishing. I grabbed an old wax paper cup. I remember it was white with a teal stripe on it… like they all seemed to have back then.
It was actually these cups that started my mother reminding me of this story. My aunt bought some for the Easter dinner and I commented how with wax paper cups, like they use in movie theaters and gas stations, will thin out and weaken when alcohol is put in them . If you have teenage kids, you can tell that there’s liquor in the cup because it will look like a napkin that has grease wiped on it. If you are a teenage kid, sorry buddy.
Anyway, back to the story.
I took this little disposable cup, and my plastic shovel, and I dug. I dug all through the garden and a little around the flower bed. Much to everyone’s surprise, I managed to avoid destroying too much of the garden, a very punishable offence in my home. By the time I was done that cup was about as full of worms as it could get. I put just a little bit of wet dirt in with the worms and set the cup in the cup holder of the boat so I would have it handy the next day.
The next day appeared and we went to the lake. We got the boat in the water, and everything all set. It was now time to start fishing. I am comfortable assuming that my entire family was happy to relieve me of some of my bait. I dont actually recall sharing but that’s just how I am with my sharing nature. Eventually for one reason or another (probably because I was catching too many fish from that spot and everyone was getting jealous), I decided to move to a different spot on the boat, and take my miniature bait bucket with me. I grabbed the cup out of the holder and just as it centered over my lap the soggy paper bottom gave out. There I was with a lap full of crawling worms and mud. Naturally I wasn’t too phased and mostly interested in finding something new to put them in. My mother yelped and almost abandoned ship. My dad was also none too happy about the muddy mess in his boat, and probably considered throwing me and my bait overboard. Being devoid of another replacement container, I vaguely recall most of my hard earned bait going over the side… What can I say? I guess some people just don’t take fishing as seriously as I do.
Posted in Fishingwith no comments yet.
Deer Steak Marinade
It’s been a while since I’ve posted, sorry about that. March tends to be a slow month for anyone who likes the outdoors, its just a long month of snow melting into mud that makes escaping a maintained road nearly impossible. So I decided for a change of pace I would post a bit of an instructive post much like my deer head cleaning post from a while ago (currently my most viewed post, thanks to Pinterest)
So this time, instead of a tomahawk or a deer head, I’ve got something almost everyone likes… food. I will share with you my super secret steak marinade recipe. It works with any red meat but I find it especially useful for deer meat, especially if you find its too gamey. So lets begin.
Wait, first I should mention something. This recipe is just a rough guide and open to adjustment and interpretation, all units of measure are somewhere along the lines of dashes, splashes, dollops, hints, and glugs.
First you need meat, you can buy it if you like, ideally go out and round it up yourself if you can
I tend to start with the meat frozen, and put it into a large container with a lid that seals.
It doesn’t look particularly appetizing just yet.
Next I like to add a bit of steak spice, any brand will work and we all have our favorites so just use that. If you don’t have a favorite or a “go to” that’s kinda strange but not a problem, just use the first one you find at the grocery store and see how you like it. Personally I like Montreal Steak spice, though I’m not sure they want to be associated with me so dont judge them based on my usage of their product. If you put too much, that’s OK because most of it will stay in the marinade when you pull the meat out to cook it, and if you think you put too little, you can add some while its grilling. Everyone has their own preference for strength of taste, I tend to put a lot of spice.
Don’t worry about putting a bit too much or too little.
Next I add a bit of BBQ sauce. I usually go with a generic BBQ flavor, but I have, in the past, had good luck with honey garlic and hickory flavor. Just about any BBQ sauce should work.
I tend to use about 1/4 to 1/3 of a cup for two steaks use what ever you think is reasonable
Next is the key ingredient, I find this is what really gets rid of a lot of that gameyness that people often don’t like in wild meat. Worcestershire sauce is the key, so add a bit to the mix. Much like with the steak spice, Lea & Perrins doesn’t know about me or my blog (probably)… So again don’t hold it against them if you happen to not like me.
I find I only need about 2 or 3 tablespoons for two steaks, and even that may be a lot
Last ingredient is any kind of cola, I believe its the carbonation that helps tenderize it, so in theory you could also use beer. If you decide to try beer, let me know how it works out (for science!). I have also, in times of desperation, had good luck with root beer, but it tends to add a bit of a vanilla flavor that some people don’t care for.
You can either use enough to submerge the steaks, or be less wasteful and flip the steaks half way through the marinade process
Lastly, put a lit on it and put it in the refrigerator for at least a day. Once you decide its time to eat it, cook it on the barbecue however you see fit. If you are unsure of how to cook steaks properly, that makes two of us. What I tend to do is turn the barbecue on and set it to high heat, once its good and hot I brush and scrape the grill portion. I then throw the steaks on, close the lid and then drop the temperature to low. That way it sears the outside, preventing sticking to the grill and sealing in the moisture, at least that’s my theory on it. All that said, every BBQ is wildly different and there are millions of people, all with their own ideas of the best way to cook a steak. Do what works for you.
I like mine cooked anywhere around medium or medium rare
So, just a quick recap:
- Put the meat into a container
- Add steak spice
- Add barbecue sauce
- Add worcestershire sauce
- Add cola
- Refrigerate for at least a day
- Cook on a grill
- Eat it
- Come back and comment with your thoughts on the recipe
One last really useful thing I will share with you, since you’ve read this far. Barbecued perogies.
Perogies are an easy and tasty side dish for almost any meal
If you’ve never had perogies… you need to go buy some now and eat them! You can finish reading this later, perogies take priority. If you’ve never had barbecued perogies, like most people I’ve talked to, this might be life changing for you. Perogies are one of my favourite foods, and always have been. I remember when I was younger, and when I come to visit as an adult, my mom would make perogies her way. She would boil them, fry some bacon, caramelize some onions and boil up some peas. All served with sour cream. This results in an amazing meal but lot of work, 2 dirty pots, and two dirty pans. When I got older someone showed me that you could fry perogies when you had them as leftovers, and that was pretty good but they tended to be greasy that way. Fried is my least favorite method of cooking perogies, but I still wont say no to a plate of them.
Last summer, while I was working on an oil rig, a Directional Driller I was working with was cooking a steak on the barbecue. I saw him pull a bag of pergoies out of the freezer and walk outside. Naturally I had to ask, and he was kind enough to enlighten me. Cooking perogies on the barbecue takes about 5 to 10 minutes, you just lay them on the grill frozen, when they start to get nice grill marks on one side flip them over. Its best to take them off when they just start to split, or if you’re really good just before they split. By the time he was done explaining himself they were ready. He offered me one and I took it… my life hasn’t been the same since. The next day I drove into town and bought a bag of perogies and I dont think I’ve gone a week without barbecued perogies since then. They are a quick side dish with minimal clean up afterward, you can eat them like finger food, and its easy to cook a lot of them if you have guests. They are good dipped in sour cream, barbecue sauce, salad dressing or my personal favorite, sweet chili sauce.
I would also recommend a starter salad or a vegetable side dish
If you have any questions don’t be shy! I would love to hear your deer steak recipe, if you care to share, put it in the comments.
Posted in How-To, Recipewith 3 comments.
Cape Reinga Road Trip: Part 2 (Dunes, Trees, and Fuel Lights)
This, as I am sure you have guessed, is part two of a two part series. I recommend you go back and begin at the beginning and read part one. If thats just not your style, allow me to bring you up to speed. Erin and I had just rented a camper van from an agency in Auckland, New Zealand and driven it to Cape Reinga. We had just seen The Cape and started heading back to Auckland to see the sights along the way and eventually return the van. Now, let us resume.
We now began our scenic drive home. On the way to Cape Reinga we had seen signs for the sand dunes, after some quick research in the guide book, we decided we had better stop and see them on the way back. We pulled into a little parking lot at the edge of where the lush green trees met the golden brown sands. From a distance it reminded me of home, it looked like at the edge of a field where the green spruce stopped on a razors edge and was replaced with golden wheat. I grabbed my water bottle filled with the previously boiled water. It was now still kinda hot, like bad tea, ideally it would have been cold.
We jumped out of the van and wandered into the dunes. A few hundred yards from the parking lot, across the dunes, there was a small patch of trees. Erin and I walked toward it, the whole time joking about it probably being a mirage. We made it to the oasis then wandered up the side of a tall dune and surveyed the area, the dunes went a lot farther than I would have expected, we were also very close to the ocean, so we decided to head that way. We climbed down the dune to a rather well traveled trail to the ocean. My water bottle kept falling out of the cargo pocket on my shorts so I decided to just leave it beside a unique rock and grab it on my way back. In hindsight that was a bad idea.
We walked toward the ocean on the sandy trail which eventually turned into a flowing stream about five inches deep and twelve feet wide. I like a nice wide shallow stream, its just so pleasant to walk in. Suddenly coming upstream towards us was a bus. A greyhound style bus, right through the stream, spraying water out each side. It was cool to see, and a little surprising. I was obviously a little confused. It stopped a few hundred feet in front of us and a bunch of people got off holding body boards, then it all made sense. It was a tour company doing sand boarding, it looked like a lot of fun. Erin and I watched for a bit and then continued our trek to the sea. We eventually made it, and went for a swim. Actually Erin swam, I’m kind of afraid of the ocean so I just waded in about waist deep.
Climbing The Dunes Is hard Work
Getting Down From The Dunes Is Quite Easy
We started heading back, the heat and salt water were starting to get to me and I was really wishing I hadn’t set down my water bottle. I eventually made it back to my water, which I had left in the sun for a few hours. I drank the nearly boiling water while we headed back to our van. Since then I have instituted a personal policy of never leaving equipment behind on a trail, either I bring it all the way or not at all.
After our sand dune excitement we headed to our campsite. It was basically a few grass parking spaces surrounded by trees, just off the main road. We had some dinner and went to bed.
The next day we had two things on the agenda, see the Kauri trees and return the van to the rental office in Auckland. We first went to Kauri Kingdom to learn about the trees and their history. The Kauri tree grows large enough that they were able to carve a spiral staircase inside of one, just to give you and idea. From there we went to a nearby Kauri forest, to see some live ones.
Giant Trees Have Always Fascinated Me
Last thing on the docket was to get the van back to the rental agency before 5pm. We pulled into Auckland at about 4:45 and I realized that I had no idea where the rental agency was. We were very low on gas, my intention was to return the van with as little fuel as possible since we pre-purchased the last tank of gas. It was also rush hour. My heart was racing, and my knuckles were white. We didn’t have any form of GPS so Erin was searching through the map trying to figure out where we were and where the agency was. Then the low fuel light came on, I was stressed and about to have a stroke. It was now 4:58 and I had admitted defeat and came to terms with us renting the van for another expensive day and needing to put fuel in it. It was now a search fro the nearest fuel station and a way to get out of the traffic. Suddenly Erin spotted a grocery store that she remembered was across the street from the rental agency. I made a quick right, and sure enough, there was the agency. I zipped into garage as an employee was starting to close the big overhead shop door. I pulled into the stall and yanked the parking brake as the clock on the dash rolled to 5:00. We were safe, although it was kind of a jerk move to come in that late when the employees are supposed to be done at 5. I apologized for cutting it so close and explained the situation to the rental agent. He thought it was kinda funny, though I’m sure by now he was tired of the usual “I’m not from here and I dont know my way around” excuse. We unloaded our gear, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a lighter tucked away in a little cubby hole beside the stove… that was upsetting. Oh well, it was time for the next adventure.
Posted in Travelwith no comments yet.
Cape Reinga Road Trip: Part 1 (Too big for this rig)
Lately I’ve been day dreaming about a good road trip. There’s something enticing about jumping in a car with a friend or two and letting the scenery roll by at the pace you want it to. My last road trip was with Erin to her cousin’s wedding in the Okanagan. It was a great trip, and I wrote about it, but I do believe one of my most memorable road trips was to Cape Reinga in New Zealand.
I landed in Auckland, New Zealand at about 10 am local time and Erin met me at the air port. We then went to the hostel and checked my luggage into their little storage closet. I was exhausted but we couldn’t check into our room until about 3 pm. Currently, I hadn’t slept for about 24 hours, which was also somehow 3 days ago thanks to the time zones that I still cant do the math on. Despite being exhausted, we decided to burn up the hours before my afternoon nap by going for a scenic walk around the city and checking out the museum, I highly recommend both of these things. Afterward I finally got to go to bed, and it was everything I hoped it would be. The next morning I woke up early, because sleeping patterns dont travel with you I find.
Once Erin and I had some breakfast we decided that the first thing we should do on our trip is go to Cape Reinga, the northern most tip of New Zealand. We weighed the pros and cons of taking a bus vs renting a vehicle and staying in hostels vs renting a camper van. It was a quick and easy decision. I really wanted to try driving on the left side of the road, because I’m a man child, also Erin and I both enjoy camping. Camper van it is! We called the rental agency and asked if we met the age and licence requirements to rent a camper van. They said we had to be 18… Check! The driver also had to have a standard drivers licence… kinda check, maybe.. Erin and I at the time both had what is known as a GDL (graduated drivers licence) which meant that we had completed the road test, the only difference between it and the full licence is that with a GDL there’s half the demerits allowed, you can’t teach someone to drive, and there’s zero alcohol tolerance. I wasn’t sure if it was acceptable, which meant I wasn’t sure they would let us rent a camper van. This left me in a weird way, I didn’t want to ask and point it out but I also didn’t want to break the rules. I thought about it a bit and realized that I was comfortable bending the rules a bit if it was for the sake of adventure.
The following morning we walked into the rental facility, picked out the sweet van we were going to rent and filled out the paperwork. The entire time I was sweaty and nervous, it probably looked mighty suspicious. Eventually they gave us the keys and sent us on our way. We had gotten the van for just a few days, and pre-purchased the last tank of gas. Basically we didn’t have to refill it before we returned it, it ended up saving us money if we returned it with less than half a tank of gas… supposedly. I carefully climbed into the ultra compact van, first I sat sideways on the seat then spun around and carefully wedged my left leg under the steering wheel and against the dash, then rammed my right knee into the corner of the door and the dash. Over the next few days I would learn to do this at a much faster rate. This van clearly wasn’t built for a man of my height and throughout the entire trip I had this fear of getting in a slight fender bender and breaking both my legs. Luckily that never happened. After my contortionist routine, we pulled out of the garage went a block east and then headed north on the freeway.
Its A Little Less Roomy Than It Looks
Let me just make a side note here and talk about driving on the opposite side of the road you are used to. Most vehicles in New Zealand have a manual transmission, which is fine, I actually prefer a manual. The part that fouled me up was that I was shifting with my left hand, it just felt unnatural. They also have the wiper switch and the signal switch on opposite sides that I’m used to, every time I pulled up to an intersection I turned the windshield wipers on. You’d think that eventually it would stop startling me, but you’d be wrong. Driving on the opposite side isn’t too bad because all of the traffic is doing it so it feels a little less weird. The real problem I had was in parking lots when passing oncoming traffic my instinct is to pass on the right hand side, naturally I got some funny looks until they saw the side of the van displaying the fact that I was a tourist. Also coming out of lots onto the road, I tended to hug the right side of the entrance/exit which again led to strange looks. Lucky for me New Zealanders tend to be a friendly people with a sense of humor.
Shortly after escaping the city we crossed a bridge with a beautiful river underneath it. I decided I wanted to get a few pictures so I pulled the van over onto the shoulder and climbed out. Erin and I each grabbed some nice photos and jumped back into the van. I went to take off and the tires just spun on the wet grass I had parked on. Immediately I started to worry and wonder how the hell I was going to explain to the rental company that I got their van stuck. Luckily, as I am a pretty typical Canadian, I know a thing or two about driving on slick surfaces. I put the van into reverse and was able to get enough traction to back up a few inches. I then was able to get a bit of forward momentum to get me a few more inches forward. I eventually rocked the van back and forth and eventually off of the slippery grass. My blood pressure dropped dramatically once all the wheels were back on pavement. Erin of course thought it was all kinda funny, she doesn’t seem to worry quite as easily as I do.
Late that day we made it to Cape Reinga. We had done the drive from Auckland to the cape in one day. Normally its only a five and half hour drive, but I might have gotten lost a few times. Luckily I’m the one telling the story so I can leave stuff like that out.
I parked the van in what was maybe a camping spot, either way it was relatively level and under a nice tree so it worked for me. We then ran down to the beach just in time to see the sunset.
A Lovely New Zealand Sunset
Once it was dark out we headed back to the camper and had some ham sandwiches. We then went and got some water. There was a lovely sign hanging saying something along the lines of “boil water before consuming”. We headed back to the camper and pulled out the little stove and pot that came with it to prepare our drinking water. For the life of me I could not find anything to light that stove with. We tore the van apart looking for matches or a lighter. Erin and I were debating what the risks were of drinking the water as is vs not having any water when two guys walked passed our camper. I walked up and started a conversation, in my usual friendly way. Turns out they were also Canadian and more important to the story, they had a lighter they were willing to lend us. We boiled a bunch of water and put it in my, then new, stainless steel water bottle and left it to cool.
The next morning we actually got to see Cape Reinga. The main attraction was a beautiful lighthouse that overlooked where the Tasman sea and the Pacific ocean mixed. It was very scenic, but also very windy.
View From The Lighthouse
The Ocean and The Sea Mixing
We then hopped back into the little van for the trip home. It ended up being far more noteworthy than the ride there, which was mainly used to determine where we wanted to stop on the way back. But this story’s getting a little long, I’ll tell you the rest next week.
Posted in Travelwith no comments yet.
Remington Redemption
I’m sure many of you are tired of me droning on and on about my obsession with old shotguns and my love of grouse hunting. What can I say, they go hand in hand so well. This week I submit, for your reading pleasure, a brief and somewhat incomplete “history” of one of the first guns in my collection.
Towards the end of my first year of university I had become a little more settled and had just a little bit of spare cash lying around. So, as any young man with extra money would do, I went to a gun show. I just figured it was about time I owned a shotgun, no sense having a licence if I’m not going to use it right? I wandered up and down several isles looking at a wide range of beautiful hunting rifles far out of my price range, and pistols that were pretty well useless to me. Then out of the corner of my eye, there it was, an old semi auto shotgun. Time had slowly turned the dark finish of the metal to a light grey and the wood on it looked like the finish had come off some time before I was born. The price was almost exactly how much money I had lying around, $200. Behind the folding table stood a tall and thin old man. The bartering began, after much back and forth the price had been renegotiated to $175, if memory serves. I filled out a lot of paperwork, at that time there was still the long gun registration. He handed me the gun, without a case, I shook his hand and I was off. Out of money and shotgun in hand I headed for the door. On my way out a lady handed me a garbage bag to put the gun in for my walk across the parking lot “we cant have people carrying guns around outside” I disagreed with her, but I figured I may as well just play along. I got to my car and had to laugh, the gun was so long and my car so small that I had to angle it from the floor behind the passenger seat to lean against the drivers side back door.
The gun I had purchased was a semi-automatic 12 gauge shotgun. It was labelled a Remington 11-48 a quick Google search reveals that it was made somewhere between 1949 and 1968 and is most likely the base model.
Old shotguns are typically notoriously cheap, I’m going to ramble a little off topic and try to explain why, if you’re not overly interested just skip this paragraph. Here we go. Shotguns made before about 1900 were designed to use only ammunition loaded with black powder. Black powder burns at a lower pressure, meaning that if you use modern shotgun shells the gun could, in a sense, explode or more likely crack apart, its extremely dangerous. It is now very rare and expensive to find black powder shotgun shells, most people just make their own if they want them. This causes the price of these really old shotguns to be very cheap, I bought a beautiful one in great shape a few years ago for about $100 and a $50 shotgun is not unheard of. Shotguns built after 1900 (ish) to about 1985 (ish), such as the Remington I am telling you about, were built when all shotgun shells had lead shot put in them, its dense and flexible meaning that the choke (end of the barrel) can be shrunk down to keep the BBs closer together giving the gun more hitting power. However, in recent decades, lead shot has been banned from use for waterfowl hunting and has been replaced with steel shot. Steel doesn’t have the same flex or density as lead, this means that the old style barrels, with too tight of chokes, can split if you try and use steel shot in them. These older guns are now rendered useless for hunting ducks and geese. You can still, however, buy lead shot and use it for non-migratory birds such as grouse, snipe, and pheasant as well as most target shot for skeets and clays. It is this loss of usefulness for waterfowl that causes these guns to have very little value, which is where I come in because I can still use it for two of my favorite things, skeets and grouse.
It was that following fall that my dad bought a house north of the city and introduced me to grouse hunting. It had been the first time in over ten years that my dad had hunted, but that’s another story and it his to tell, I have a hard time imagining him taking another hiatus that long. It was pure coincidence that I had a great gun for it, my new (to me) Remington. My dad, brother, and I must have gotten nearly 50 grouse that season their population had been on a up-cycle that year and you could almost call it an infestation.
Back In My Less Photogenic Days
Two Handsome Fellas After A Good Day
Over the winter I attempted to shoot a lot of skeets with it, I hit a few but it wasn’t pretty. That spring I got a little bored and decided to refinish the wood on the old shotgun that had been so good to me for so long. I pulled it apart and began sanding. The stock had developed a bit of a crack, so I simply glued it shut. About the time I finished sanding it, a friend of mine offered to airbrush it for me for $50, if I recall correctly (a steal of deal compared to the usual price of his work). I guess he was bored too maybe. I gave him the sanded stock and told him it was a gun mostly for grouse hunting, I them remembered that he likes hot rods and loud engines, not guns and hunting. I showed him a few picture of grouse to make sure we were on the same page. I gave him my full permission to get creative. The results where phenomenal.
Notice The Details In The Back, Such As The Mountain And The Grass
The High Gloss Finish Makes Taking A Picture Difficult
He Even Shaded The Checkering On The Forestock
Needless to say I was very impressed with the final product and this gun still get a lot of attention and compliments when people see it. I reassembled the gun after it was painted and took it out for a day of shooting. I was disheartened to find that it now shot horribly. It shot way high and way to the left and there was nothing I could do about it since shotguns dont have adjustable sights. As best I could figure the paint must have built up on the areas where the stock met with the metal of the gun and changed some of the angles meaning I would have to try sanding some of the paint off. I retired it to the closet for a while with the intention of looking into it “when I get a chance” time passed and I got busy with other things and it slowly found its way into the back of a closet.
A few weeks ago my friend Nikki and I went out for a shooting day. While there I saw that old Remington out of the corner of my eye and decided that I better try shooting it again. Maybe I would cut the barrel down and put a new adjustable sight on it and use it for a bush gun. I took it outside and fired a shot at a clay and it turned to dust. I shot another clay and same thing… it was the damnedest thing, the gun was now shooting perfect. I must have had an off day, then blamed the gun and as punishment for my stupidity I went years without shooting it. Chopping the barrel off was no longer an option to me. Nikki and I shot that gun all day and it worked well the whole time, I will admit the action was a little unreliable but I blame that on it collecting dust in a closet for about 5 years.
Towards the end of the day I noticed that the paint was beginning to chip off around the crack that I had previously glued shut. I couldn’t let this continue, not after what had already happened. I took the gun home and put some paint over the cracking edges and Erin and I wrapped some leather around the crack, which luckily happened to be on the handle.
Anyone Can Buy A New Gun, I Take Pride In Keeping An Old One Alive
Personally I like the look of the leather wrapped handle. I am now very excited to have my old grouse gun back in action. With any luck it should get me some dinner this fall. Don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it.
Posted in Hunting, Marksmanshipwith no comments yet.
Shooting day
It had been far too long since I had a shooting day with friends. A shooting day is exactly what it sounds like, a day of shooting guns. Usually how it plays out is I pick a Saturday or Sunday and take a truck load of friends, guns and ammo out to my mom and step-dad’s farm and we shoot clays, metal gongs, paper targets and just about anything else we can think of.
This particular day was a Sunday, I invited a few people but the only person available was my friend Nikki. Everyone else was busy with the bridal show, or hockey games, or had already agreed to spend time with their girlfriend. So Nikki and I loaded up my truck with a lot of guns and ammo and headed for the farm.
We pulled in the driveway and were greeted by two excited dogs. After much petting we made it into the house and were offered a lot of food. I feel I should mention or maybe warn people that you cannot go near my mothers house without being given food. Naturally I had a snack before we began. We rounded up the clays and the thrower. As I was setting it all up Nikki informed me that she had never shot clays before.
To make life easier I started off by preemptively explaining to her that when you shoot clays you’re going to miss a lot, especially in the beginning. Most people tend to get very down on themselves because of that. I’ve had a lot of friends give up and say “I’m just wasting your ammo and skeets” for some reason people think that if they hit them I get my money back or something. As a result I have started to explain to people that a hit or a miss cost me about the same amount, which really isn’t much given the cost of shotgun shells and clays. I have also found that people tend to see better results when I get them to shoot clays that aren’t moving first, this allows them to see how the shotgun fires.
I started Nikki out by putting out a bunch of clays on the various snow banks and got her to shoot them with my .410, she quickly learnt that with that gun she had to aim a bit low. After busting a few clays that were sitting on the snow I started using the thrower. She almost immediately started dusting clays. From there she did the same thing with my two 12 gauges and quickly began to favor my old semi-auto Remington, I think she found my old side by side 12 gauge a little too front end heavy. We traded off shooting and loading the thrower, I had a hot streak that couldn’t be described as anything other than luck, I lost count but was well over ten in a row which is far beyond my previous personal best. Darrell eventually came and joined us for a bit with a short barreled defender shotgun. A short barrel like that tends to make clay shooting much harder as the shot tends to spread out more and lose hitting power, I tried using his gun for a few and it wasn’t pretty. Then after a while even my mom came out and joined us, she declined to try shooting any clays out of the air but she did shoot some clays in the snow banks with her .410, which she owns for the sole purpose of keeping snakes out of her life.
We then took a break for lunch, then came back and took a walk around the field picking up unbroken clays and standing them up for rifle targets. I then pulled out my two 30/30’s and was happy to find that my reloaded ammo worked well in both guns. I also broke out my old .22 and Nikki and I used it to throw a lot of lead against the old gong hanging at the edge of the field. I have shot a lot of guns in a wide range of sizes and I still believe that an old .22 with open sights is the most fun shooting there is.
Darrell came back out, this time with his mini-14 which is a semi automatic .223 and a gun that I am a little envious of. We all took turns using it to shatter old clays on the snow until we had used up all its ammo. We then went back to shooting clays out of the air with the shotguns, probably because it was new and exciting for Nikki and I was still enjoying my hot streak.
A lot of those unbroken clays were probably mine
A truck load of fun
Our only setback the whole day was towards the end when a shell had gotten stuck in my shotgun, it had swelled when it went off and as a result was stuck in the barrel. We were able to coax the empty shell out by tapping the action open with a wooden dowel and a hammer.
Once we ran out of daylight I loaded my cooler full of deer meat that Darrell was kind enough to butcher for me (the meat had come from my “Boot Leather Buck”). As Darrell and I were loading the cooler there was lots of “oh, you better take some of this good homemade bacon, here’s a pack for Nikki too… Oh and here’s pork chops, and some sausage” Then my mom handed us three grocery bags of food “this ones for Nikki, take this to your brother, and this one has some of those good pizza buns for Erin to take in her lunches” Like I said, you cannot go near my parents without getting food. All in all it was a good day, we did a lot of shooting, which was the goal, and we got a big pile of good food, which is always a bonus.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to clean all those guns we used, but that’s just another part of the fun.
Posted in Marksmanshipwith no comments yet.
Tyson Goes Climbing
Okay okay, so this weeks story isn’t really about going outside, but it’s still a physical activity so that probably counts for something.
Work has been very slow for me lately and as a result I have had a lot of time off. I decided that since I wasn’t working, I might as well do something productive with my time. There are a lot of things in my life I should probably improve. Instead of working on my writing, I decided to start doing more physical activities. I really want to get into shape, but I dont care for the gym, mostly because I have no idea what I’m doing when I go there. So I started swimming every morning and sometimes I would go for a second time in the evening. Then, some friends invited me to try rock climbing. I have a bad fear of heights so I figured maybe I could get some exercise and conquer a fear at the same time. It turns out that the climbing I was going to do is actually called “bouldering” you dont use a harness or safety ropes, but you also dont go much more than about eight feet off the ground, which is still plenty high for a guy like me.
Jason and I arrived at the indoor climbing… center?… wall? place? We arrived at the climbing place, it was indoors and man made. It was my first time there so I had to fill out a waiver and create a profile. I firmly believe that any activity that requires you to fill out a waiver first is automatically a little bit higher on the fun scale. Next I had to rent some climbing shoes. Climbing shoes are basically soft, tight fitting, and have no grip on the bottom. Luckily at the top of the back rack they had a few pairs of giant shoes to fit me. The person getting them for me of course had to make a joke about my big feet…
Finally we got in and met up with our other two friends. Initially I was quite intimidated and didn’t have much of a clue what was going on. At first I just stood back and watched in hopes of learning something. Lucky for me my friends were quick to explain how the numbers and labels worked. It turns out there are routes marked on the walls, they have a start and an end and you are only allowed to use certain holds in between. Finally after watching everyone in our group complete the same route, I decided to give it a try. I was successful, mostly because it was one of the easiest routes in the whole place, but it was still a good feeling. We spent the rest of our time there trying various other routes, some with more success than others. I was pleased to find that everyone there was friendly. For some strange reason I always imagine in my head that people good at something will have no patience for a person who’s new.
My moment of triumph for the day was completing a route that was a bit above my skill level (lets be honest though, it was still a pretty easy one in the grand scheme of things). It required the full use of my wing span and I ended up about eight feet off the ground, which is plenty high up for a guy who’s afraid of heights.
Almost done
Both hands on the last hold means I’ve completed it
By the end of the day my finger tips felt like they had been smashed in a car door, there’s a reason I know that feeling. My forearms felt like the skin around them was shrinking, I guess that’s just what happens when you exercise for a change. The next day I could really feel how much work my shoulders had done. Bodily pain and fear of heights aside, I had a lot of fun and have actually gone again since. I plan on making this a weekly activity, at least until work picks up.
Posted in Otherwith no comments yet.